I blame it on this one-stoplight town where nothing interesting ever happens.
Thankfully, quarter-of-a-century Loren is much, much smoother.
I’ll casually sidle up to him after the committal and say something witty and charming that will endear him to me. In no time at all, we’ll be walking down the aisle hand-in-hand, me in an ivory gown and him in a sexy black tux.
Call me an optimist, but this feels like fate finally coming through for me after Sean Malloy and I broke up.
Who is Sean Malloy, you ask?
The other undertaker here.
Tall. Dark. Pale as a vampire.
A product of my Paranormal Romance phase.
Everyone says not to date a colleague, but for a hot minute I thought, why not? Might as well find someone interested in taking over the family business because I sure as heck don’t want to.
Sean wasfine.
But I’m not looking for fine. I want fizzy tingles and flapping butterflies and shortness of breath.
Enter: The tall mourner with a great head of thick, golden hair.
If the older man next to him is any relation, this one might even get to keep all that hair when he gets older.
Unlike poor Sean who has aged at least ten years since our breakup.
My ex smiles at me from where he stands next to my father, the light above them reflecting off what’s left of Sean’s dark hair, their hands clasped in front of them like they’re ready for caskets of their own.
I love my father, but I donotwant to end up with someone exactly like him.
Tried it. Hated it. Not for me.
The service ends, and the family and friends shuffle out, waiting for the pallbearers to carry the casket to the hearse. Guess who gets to drive that sex machine?
This girl.
Did I mention how much I hate my job?
Thankfully, the graveyard isn’t far away, and once Hazel VanMeter is in the ground where she can’t haunt me anymore, everyone is free to head back to the church for a dinner cateredby the local diner where Hazel had a corner table reserved in her honor.
I use the term “reserved” in the loosest sense of the word. Basically, everyone was too scared to sit there in case she came in and ripped them a new one.
The crisp autumn air rattles the browning leaves still clinging to the branches as I lean against the hearse and wait for everyone to pile into their cars so I can maneuver this gigantic black metal cockroach out of here.
“Hey.”
I turn toward the deep voice andholy hell, the golden god with shoulders of stone has found me.
Is this real life?
“Hey.” Not exactly the smoothest start to a meet cute. Good thing there’s nowhere to go from here but up.
I can see my own reflection in his aviator sunglasses, and while my hair is on point, my smile looks tight as hell.
Oh no…
Words are starting to bubble from my throat and— “How do you know the Wicked—I mean, the deceased?”
